


Real Fake ID

by micdropbam



Series: "Do I feel good about it? No, but you have to go from here, so we go from here—" [3]
Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Alpha Peter Parker, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Breeding Kink, Calling the Anus a Pussy, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Freckles, M/M, Omega Miles Morales, Oral Sex, Past Underage Sex, Post Mpreg, Praise Kink, Self-Lubrication, Size Kink, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25930120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micdropbam/pseuds/micdropbam
Summary: It's Miles's 21st birthday, at least according to his ID in this dimension, so Peter takes him out to try alcohol for the first time. Turns out Miles doesn't like alcohol. That's okay, Peter can just finish whatever he doesn't drink.
Relationships: Miles Morales/Peter B. Parker
Series: "Do I feel good about it? No, but you have to go from here, so we go from here—" [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878997
Comments: 9
Kudos: 74





	Real Fake ID

When Miles turns 19, his official legal ID in the new universe claims he’s 21. Like it’s a real fake ID.

“Basically saves the trouble of driving up to Canada, which is what I did on my 19th,” Peter said when he proposed that they try introducing Miles to alcohol on his 19th birthday.

Between having a strictly letter-of-the-law cop father and a nurse mother, plus living in a dorm where drugs and alcohol were one of the absolute strictest forbidden substances, and then living with Peter who was sticking to an “eat clean” prohibition on alcohol, Miles really hasn’t ever had any kind of alcohol.

This is also the first time the two of them leave Parker with a sitter overnight. Their chosen sitter is a very serious and well behaved teenager from the Xavier Institute’s Manhattan campus, with a paralyzing power. In the event that Parker picks the night that they’re away from home to suddenly manifest powers, especially since they don’t know what powers he might have, a paralytic power to keep him in one place until back-up can arrive seems like the wisest choice.

So here they are, at a bar on Long Island (“Have you seen the prices in the city? I want to celebrate your birthday not blow a house payment”), starting with the most basic: a pint of Brooklyn Lager in front of each of them and a shared plate of fries. It’s going to be a one day reprieve from Peter’s dietary restrictions.

“Cheers,” says Peter, they clink glasses, and drink.

Miles puts his glass down first and makes a face. “Oh my God. It _does_ taste just like it smells. People drink this on purpose?”

Peter puts his own glass down and laughs, reaching for a fry. “No worries, kid. Nobody likes beer when they first try it. I’ll finish yours and we’ll order you something else.”

Miles grabs a fry too and Peter waves over the waitress.

“Not a fan of the beer?” she says with a smile at Miles, who grins sheepishly.

“He likes Coke,” says Peter, “so let’s try him with a Jack and Coke.”

“You got it. You want me to take this one away?”

“Nah, I’ll finish it for him.”

*

“It’s not...” Miles considers his words. “I could probably finish this if I _had_ to? It kind of burns and tastes weird, but the Coke helps.”

Peter frowns, rubs his chin, and reaches for the Jack and Coke. “Okay, not beer, not Jack and Coke, another direction... how about a Pina Colada?”

“Piña Colada.”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“You said _Pina._ It’s got the tilde on the n, it’s _Piña.”_

“Is it that big of a deal?”

“Yeah, gringo, unless you think there’s no difference between _cannon_ and _canyon._ ”

“Huh. Okay, fair.”

*

“Okay. Okay. This will work, it will definitely work... we’re on Long Island... gotta try a Long Island ice tea. You can’t taste the alcohol. Eeeeeverybody knows that.” Peter’s not slurring or swaying. It probably wouldn’t be obvious to someone who didn’t know Peter like Miles does, but Peter is definitely getting affected by the alcohol.

Miles rests his cheek on his hand. “I don’t get that. Like, if you can’t taste the alcohol, then why you ordering it? You never hear somebody say, ‘Oh, let’s order this ice cream sundae, you’ll love it, it doesn’t taste like it has any ice cream in it.’ Because ice cream is actually good.”

“Two Long Island ice teas,” Peter says to the waitress, who is actually just walking by on her way to another table, but she gives him a thumbs up.

“Two?” says Miles. “You having one too?”

“Yeah, why not? I only had one beer,” Peter says, then slurps the dregs of the piña colada out of the bottom of the glass noisily through a straw.

*

“And could you call us a cab?” Miles says as he punches in a tip for the waitress on the debit machine.

“No problem,” she says, then hesitates, looking between the two of them. At nineteen, Miles has gotten to a respectable 5’8” in height, not that much shorter than Peter, but Miles is well aware that he’s got skinny arms that look like they’d struggle to pick up a cat, let alone someone as built as Peter. “Uh, you gonna be alright getting him out to the cab by yourself? That last drink really hit him hard, huh?”

“I’m good,” Peter says without lifting his face from the table, making a thumbs up and then not bothering to lower it back down, like he’s playing Heads Up Seven Up.

“We’ll be fine, thanks,” says Miles.

When the cab gets there, there’s a lot of impressed faces and somebody whistles when Miles effortlessly lifts and cradle carries Peter out of the bar.

“Is it time for bed?” Peter says with his eyes closed.

“Yeah, as soon as we get to the hotel, man.”

*

Miles carries Peter piggyback from the cab to the hotel, glad that they’re not going back home to show the poor babysitter the Amazing Spider-Man amazingly drunk, but annoyed that a couple years abstention from alcohol had made Peter such a lightweight that Miles is gonna have to spend his 19th birthday flicking through the hotel TV channels while Peter snores with his legs under him, butt in the air, in that weird sleeping position that both him and Parker like to do.

He therefore dumps Peter on the hotel bed without much special care, forces his shoes off without bothering to untie them first, making Peter grunt in his sleep, and heads to the bathroom.

Miles texts the babysitter, uses the toilet, washes his hands, checks the sitter’s return text—everything’s cool and Parker’s asleep—and opens the bathroom door, nearly running straight into Peter’s naked body.

“Hey,” says Peter, grinning and leaning on the doorframe.

“Don’t steal my lines,” Miles says, his heart calming down from the minor scare. “You woke—” His gaze catches on Peter’s jutting cock, and chokes on his words a moment. “—u-up.”

“Yeah, I did,” says Peter, grabs Miles’s lapels and pulls him against himself, kissing him and grinding his hips against him. “Want you, puppy.”

“Yeah,” Miles gasps, “I can tell—let me take it off, don’t rip it. Let’s go to the bed.”

Peter sways a little as he walks, crashes onto the bed and rolls to watch Miles from his side. “Think I’m a bit drunk.”

“You’re a _lot_ drunk,” Miles laughs, making a pile of his clothes.

“Can I still fuck you?” Peter says, his hand moving to his cock and stroking it. “I want to fuck your little pussy so bad right now.”

Miles pauses for a second as he pulls off his shirt, again a little shocked. It’s not like Peter to be this forward or blunt until they’re _well_ into having sex.

It’s a little exciting.

“Yeah,” says Miles, kicking his underwear away and advancing on Peter. “It’s my birthday after all.”

Peter’s eyes light up with recognition. “Right! Right. S’why I’m drunk.”

Miles laughs, goes to push Peter down so he’s lying on top of him, and gets surprised again when Peter uses his movement against him, rolls them over together so that he’s pinning Miles instead, slotting his hips between Miles’s thighs, grabbing between them so that their cocks rub against each other.

Miles isn’t used to this position, either—usually Peter either mounts him from behind or Miles rides him. Now that he realizes this—realizes it as best as he can, anyway, with Peter frotting on top of him like this—he’s not sure why. Mounting is alpha instinct, maybe, and it makes sense that Miles ends up riding him in those times when Miles is taking more initiative...

“You feel so _small_ when you’re under me like this,” Peter growls. “I probably shouldn’t... like it as much as I do.”

“I like how big you are,” Miles says immediately. “Especially—”

“Especially...? Dot dot dot?” says Peter, delighted as Miles squirms. “Touch me. Show me where you like me big.”

Miles hesitates, then puts his hands to Peter’s shoulders.

“Hmm? Just there? No where else?”

Peter’s not the only one who can tease. Miles puts his hands on the pudge of Peter’s tummy with a grin.

“Oh, oh, you want to fight? Is that what we’re doing, we’re gonna fight?” Peter teases back and starts wrestling with Miles, tickling him whenever he pins him.

Drunk, Peter would be easy to evade, but Miles doesn’t wanna get away. He deliberately puts up his hands towards the headboard, giving Peter an easy opening to web them both down. It backfires on him when Peter then starts tickling his armpits.

“Hey—” Miles laughs as he writhes against Peter. “Stop, stop man, I didn’t put my arms up for that—”

“Then what did you mean by liking me big, Miles? Seems like your hands are tied, so maybe you can use your words.” Peter stopped tickling, but he skims a finger lightly from Miles’s armpit down his ribcage which causes its own undulating sensation.

Okay. If he’s caught, he might as well commit. “Your cock, Peter.”

He sees Peter’s eyes widen and jerk up to his face. “Say that again.”

“Your cock is really big, Peter,” he says, trying to look flirtatious about it.

A slow smile spreads on Peter’s face. “You love my cock so much, huh?” He raises his upper body a bit, puts his hand between them to shift his cock on Miles’s belly. “Can you feel how far up your body my tip is, puppy?” He puts his finger to the precum at his tip and draws a line on Miles’s skin with it, like a notch. “That’s how deep I fill you, baby.”

Miles licks his lips. _“Please_ give it to me.”

A thumb rubs across his lower lip. “Your mouth begs so pretty,” Peter says huskily. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous looking up at me like that. But I don’t want this over so fast, when I got you tied down like this. Wanna show you how sexy you are to me.”

With that, Peter moves his head down between Miles’s thighs, and Miles thinks he’s going to get rimmed, because Peter loves doing that, but instead his hips jerk in surprise as Peter’s mouth takes in his tip.

Peter lets him slip free to chuckle, “You already trying to fuck my mouth kid?”

“N-no—” God, why is _this_ embarrassing? When they’ve already done so much else... “I didn’t think... you don’t have to s-suck...”

“Think I owe you some apologies, Miles,” Peter says, his big hand grasping Miles, not too tight or too loose. “I’m always telling you, you don’t have to suck my dick. Now I know, that’s a dumb thing to say. Because I do want to, puppy.”

Miles moans helplessly as Peter takes him in his mouth again. Peter’s the _alpha,_ alphas don’t suck dicks, hell male alphas in porn with male omegas often don’t even _touch_ the omega’s dick. _Come from my cock or not at all_ is a common taunt in the porn Miles has seen, he’s already thought he’s so lucky that Peter—that Peter—oh God, Peter’s actually _gagging—_ “Peter!”

There’s a bit of moisture still in Peter’s eyes as he pulls off. “You make this look a lot easier than it is.” He presses a kiss to the side of the head of the cock, looking a bit regretful. “Think I better try again another time when I’m less likely to, y’know...”

“Barf?”

Peter laughs. “Yeah, bit of a mood killer if I did that.” Still, he presses another kiss to the shaft, then to a little mole next to Miles’s hip bone. “Wish I could make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

The idea of feeling better than Peter makes him feel seems impossible. ”You make me feel really good, like...” Miles swallows. “Really good, so...”

Peter’s kissing his body again, his stubble a little scratchy on his belly. He puts two fingers to Miles’s hole and Miles breathes out as he lets them in, lets himself be stretched.

“Mm!” he whimpers when Peter starts doing slow, long strokes across his prostate and omega lubrication gland.

“That’s it, puppy,” Peter encourages, “get so nice and wet for me, Miles. All ready for me to fuck your little pussy full. Make it drip for me, baby.”

His body is eager to obey. Miles can feel little warm trickles starting to flow down his crack as Peter keeps rubbing him inside with his fingers. “Ah... ah, Peter...”

When Peter pulls his fingers out, he puts them in his mouth and sucks on them noisily. It’s embarrassing. It’s even more embarrassing how much Miles likes seeing Peter enjoy tasting his slick.

“Fuck, I wish you could see yourself right now. Gotta fuck you in a place with a mirror on the ceiling sometime. See how sexy you look. Just look at those goddamn thighs.” Peter is pushing the thighs up and apart gently, tilting his ass up and open, ready for fucking. “You could kill a man with these. That’s how I wanna go, okay?”

Miles laughs, but his heart is beating faster, because Peter’s got the head of his cock resting against the puffy bud of his asshole.

“Breathe a little slower, relax,” Peter coaches. “That’s it... here, just one finger again, baby. Don’t be nervous, you can do this.”

“I’m not nervous,” Miles protests, and Peter raises an eyebrow at him, because Miles is clenching around his single finger. “Not... it’s not nervousness, I’m just excited, I just want it so bad. I can take it, I promise I can take it. Please.“

Peter still looks skeptical but he’s also licking his upper teeth and lip, a notorious alpha tell for sexual excitement. Miles can get him if he can just push those buttons. There’s one he’s never tried before, a really embarrassing one that he was worried might backfire. Now, when Peter is tipsy and might not remember clearly if it’s a fail, is the perfect time to chance it.

“Alpha, you know I can take it.” He pitches it higher, just this side of a whine, tilting his head as best he can to expose his neck. “Want you to put a pup in me, alpha, breed me full—ah!”

The whine becomes a crying out because Peter has replaced his finger with his cock, all hesitance about Miles’s nerves gone. Peter grips him by the waist, his thumbs meeting over Miles’s belly button. “Omega,” Peter snarls, his expression feral, his thrusts brutal, “this what you need, omega? Need your alpha’s cock to pump you full?”

Miles can’t say yes, he can’t form words at all, he has no control over the noises he’s making, no control over anything, as Peter fucks him just how he wants it, uses his body rough and deep.

“Fill this little belly up. God you’re so fucking gorgeous, can’t wait to see you heavy with my pup again. Get you in heat and fuck your little pussy raw, baby. Put so many knotloads of come in you.” Peter’s hands are feeling him up all over now, tweaking at his nipple, rubbing on his hip bones, pulling Miles’s calf over Peter’s shoulder to let Peter kiss and lick it, and his thrusts are irregular but so deep, knocking the breath from Miles every time he feels Peter’s hips smacking into his bottom. “Mm. You like that? You like thinking about my seed sloshing around inside you?”

The slower pace lets Miles’s head clear a little, enough. Peter’s got him all folded up beneath him. “Yeah, I l-love it.”

“Fuck yeah I’ll breed you again,” Peter huffs, beginning to shift back into a rhythm again. “My pretty boy. All mine. Taking me perfect, mm.”

Miles’s eyes close as he groans with it, focusing on the feeling of how the ring of his anus is stretched so helplessly wide around the big cock that’s fucking him. It feels like it’s gonna ruin him every time, like he’s getting split apart, but even if it did ruin him, he couldn’t say no, it feels so good.

“No, don’t close your eyes,” and as Miles’s eyes flicker open the alpha rises up on his knees, pulling Miles’s butt up easily with one hand while the other hand tilts Miles’s head up off the pillow, forcing him to see Peter’s cock thrust faster into his body, to watch how obscenely stretched his asshole is around its girth, how the slick lets him glide in, no resistance. “Watch, puppy. Look how perfect you take me.”

The rhythm of Peter’s thrusts is making Miles’s own penis slap lightly against his stomach, a little _pat pat pat_ in tandem with the guttural noises Miles is making as he’s fucked. “Unh! Ngh! Mm! Mm! Uh!”

“Wanna make you watch yourself come. Splash that pretty tummy all over.” He moves his thumb to Miles’s mouth and Miles eagerly begins to suckle at it. “Mm, fuck. Yeah, yeah, that’s it, come on.”

Because Miles is whimpering as he sucks, as he comes, as his cock spits jizz up onto his torso just like Peter asked for, milky white spray.

“Sweetest boy. Taking his alpha’s cock so good.”

*

When Peter finally comes, it comes abruptly, Peter stopping mid-dirty phrase to just go “Oooohh fuck!” and suddenly flop down onto him, grinding into him, and as his knot swells Miles suddenly realizes that this may not be an ideal position, especially since Peter’s knots can last a _long_ time.

But it’s too late for that now, especially since he’s sure Peter is _well_ past being able to think of anything but plugging his omega’s pussy shut, keeping all his come inside. Peter has his forehead heavy on top of Miles’s, panting, and the alcohol scent fills his lungs. Miles winces a little at the smell.

“Sorry,” mutters Peter, suddenly sounding both way more tired and way more drunk. “’m heavy.”

“Nah man, your breath just stinks a little,” Miles says, and Peter chuckes and moves his face to the side, kisses at the back of his jaw, by his earlobe.

“Sorry. Can’ brush.”

It only takes a determined tug to free his hands, though the web fluid leaves a sticky residue. Miles grabs at a pillow to put under his butt and help with the awkward angle.

“Let’s just get...”

Peter snores.

“...some sleep,” Miles says, and pats Peter’s back.

*

“...freckles...” mutters Peter.

Miles feels a little dip in his stomach. He hasn’t been able to fall asleep with Peter still tied on top of him like this. “What about freckles?”

“Maiz freckles,” he slurs. “Shhh. He’ll hear.”

“Hear what about his freckles?”

“Maiz...” Peter yawns, “S’cute freckles... can’ tell ‘im... ll’think I mean MJ...”

Miles rubs at his face. He had never really thought of the little specks on his cheeks as _freckles,_ just as... little specks.

“Love’is frecks,” Peter says against Miles’s neck. “S’cute.”

“What else you like about Miles?” Might as well push his luck.

A sleepy chuckle. “Ev’thing... big eyes... s’n’fair... always... win...” Peter breathes in and lets out a happy sigh, hugging Miles like he’s a stuffed animal. “Smells s’good. Love ‘im. Soooo—” yawn—“much.”

Miles feels like he’s gonna melt right into the hotel mattress. Peter’s gonna wake up in the morning in a puddle of liquid Miles.

*

“Ohhhhh my God. Ohhhhhh my God. Turn that light off.”

“It’s the sun, Peter,” Miles says dryly. He’s sitting on a little windowseat with his phone, having just pulled the curtains open. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but c’mon, man, I know you’re gonna wanna take a shower before we have to check out and get back home to Parker.”

“The sun? The... what...” Peter looks around blearily, then suddenly sits up. “What did I do last night?”

“You don’t remember anything?” says Miles, a little disappointed. He was glad if Peter didn’t remember confessing his love for Miles’s freckles and other mushy stuff, but if he’d forgotten _everything,_ that was a little disappointing.

“Uhhh...” He puts his hand to his forehead. “There’s some, but... I think I also had some dreams...” Peter peels the blanket off the rest of the way and looks down, noticing that he’s got dried sex residue all over his genitals and thighs. “Oh, wow. Obviously not _all_ dreams, then...” He looks up at Miles, who smiles back at him innocently.

“You were sweet, man, don’t worry,” Miles assures him. “A gentleman. I had a great birthday.”

“Okay, then...” Peter walks off to the shower.

Once the door is closed, Miles sighs and reaches under him to grab the ice pack he had housekeeping help him rig up with ice from the ice machine, a towel, and a plastic bag. Best to get rid of the evidence before Peter figures out that Miles’s definition of “a gentleman” is a little different.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll fill this ship tag by myself if I have to
> 
> making your own content is power
> 
> also look at those freckles
> 
> I bet they just get cuter when he gets older


End file.
